My daughter, Syd, will be 9 in March.  And as I always like to say, she’s 8 going on 28. She’s been coming home from school on the bus every day for months, letting herself in and starting her homework, before my husband gets home about 45 minutes later.

Because of this new-found after-school independence, we’ve let her stay home alone more and more, while we take short trips to the grocery store. We recently went to dinner at our neighborhood restaurant and she only called me every 20 minutes, telling me the latest with the dog and cats. The last call was that she was worried that one of our cats, Simon, had gotten out through the doggie door, never to return, since they’re not outside cats but have been venturing out with the new door.  She then saw him in the kitchen, while she was on the phone with me. Crisis averted.

On Friday we decided to see Star Wars on opening day because as fans it’s a given. We originally had only bought tickets for Saturday, not thinking we would take the day off. We asked her if she wanted to go with us and she passed. (Yes, she only wanted to see it once  – I’m working on flipping her to full nerd.) This was a big step though since we would be gone for a couple of hours. We figured my phone would blow up every 20 minutes like the time we went to dinner but only one text came through. Apparently the dog and cats were playing or in the case of the dog, it’s playing to him but to the cats they think he means it’s Fight Club. While they were playing, they broke this bin we have at the bottom of our staircase that we dump things in all day that need to go back upstairs each night. It’s an old bin so it was no big deal.

We then came home after the movie, wondering what we would walk in to, since there had been no more texts. I should also mention that Syd is also getting really good at cleaning up her accidents. She recently knocked a spice bottle off the shelf in the pantry and cleaned it up entirely with only a small sliver of glass by the trash can. She later fessed up. So we figured something similar would have occurred. We walked in the backdoor from our garage and she was right in the hallway, yelling at the dog and turns to us saying, “The fucking dog was eating the cat shit again and pulled it out of their box!” She was half crying but trying to hold back the tears, as she walked away from us with a big wad of paper towels to go get the cat shit from the living room that our dog, Alvin, had drug out. I told her I would go clean it up and she said “No, I’ve got it covered” and proceeded to clean up. We both tried not to laugh since she was being so serious but we couldn’t help it. (And yes, she does utter the occasional bad word because duh, she’s my kid.)

As parents it’s tough to figure out when it’s ok to leave your kids at home alone. In the back of my mind I always figured CPS would sense a disturbance in the force and show up at my door. And, I don’t remember when I started staying home alone but I imagine it was about the same age as Syd. I do however remember the first time my parents went out-of-town and left me to hold down the fort.

It was the first semester of my senior year of high school. I’d had my license for about 8 months so that meant I had complete independence since I was mobile. My parents decided to help out some of their best friends and neighbors who were moving to Montana. They would be gone a week.

I was a good kid so having a party didn’t cross my mind. I remember having my best friend over to hang out and that was it. But one of the first mornings was when the trouble came.

I never kept a house key with me or in my backpack. We had it as a hide-a-key in our garage, which I could easily access since we left a side door open. Yes, I’m sure that sounds crazy to you but when you live in a small town that has very little crime, you get some privileges like this.

One morning, I ran outside to our garage to get something, leaving our golden retriever lab mix, Scooter, inside by the kitchen table, eyeing the half-eaten cereal I’d left behind. For whatever reason, the day before, when I’d come home from school, I’d taken the hide-a-key inside with me and laid it on the kitchen table. I’d forgotten I’d done this.

As I came back from the garage, I went to try the backdoor and it was locked, with Scooter looking at me through the glass, sitting there patiently, waiting for me to come in. I ran back to the garage only to realize and remember that the damn key was in the house! I started to panic.

There was no way in the house. No other key. Nada. I would have to break a window or call a locksmith which I had no time for. I could see the key on the table and I jokingly said to Scooter through the door “Come on buddy, open the door.” He wagged his tail and licked the glass. Big help but he was no circus dog so he wasn’t going to figure out how to turn the door knob.

I decided to call my parents and tell them the bad news. They took it well and told me to call another neighbor friend to come help break a window. He came over to my rescue.

We walked around the kitchen nook, deciding on a window that would work, after trying a couple of others just to make sure none were unlatched and would slide open.  Then, before he was going to smash the window, he pushed on it a little, sliding it to the left and it opened! I guess I hadn’t latched it the night before when I had it open. We took the screen off and I crawled through, with Scooter happy to see me. I quickly called my parents back, telling them that the window gods were on my side and then I raced to school.

I’ll remember to tell Syd this story when we take our first big trip, leaving her in charge of the house. I’m fairly certain that Alvin will be no help to her like Scooter wasn’t for me. But, Alvin can do some circus-trick walking on his hind legs so who knows what he might be able to manage with doors.